


Go Back to Sleep

by pippen2112



Series: Go Back to Sleep Series [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ass Play, Biting, Dry Humping, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Not for the faint of heart, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Mercs are BAD PEOPLE, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, kinkmas 2017, season 12 divergence, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Kinkmas 2017: The mercs dig their claws into Wash.PLEASE READ THE TAGS THIS FIC IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART!





	Go Back to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inthrall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthrall/gifts).



> Written for Kinkmas 2017 based on the delightful prompt for inthralll. 
> 
> Please heed the tags: this fic is extremely non-con. I tried to tag everything I could think of, but if I missed anything, please let me know.

Go Back to Sleep

_..."Where am I?"..._

_...Something bitter against his lips ... He tries to fight against it ... but his arms ... he can't move his arms ... or his legs ..._

_His heart pounds in his chest. Something solid and unyielding holds his mouth closed.  Strokes his throat._ Don't swallow, Wash.  Don't swallow.  Don't. _But the bitter taste spreads across his tongue, up the back of his throat, into his nasal cavity.  He gulps until the taste goes away, until the metal on his mouth lets go._

_He blinks, but in the darkness he can't make out the figure in front of him.  Someone in power armor.  Someone strong enough to hold him down.  Wash surges forward, ready to fight this fuck, but something tethers his wrists to his neck.  Flexing his fingers, Wash recognizes that sensation despite his under armor coating every inch of him from the neck down._

_Ropes... Goddamn ropes... Not even military grade handcuffs... At least those he can slip out of... but ropes... A shiver races down his spine, pools in his groin, warm and pulsing... Wash groans..._ Fuck, why did it have to be ropes...

_... A gravelly hum ... Something wet and rough pressing into his mouth ... The same unyielding touch on his thigh ... Wash squrims ... Ropes pull tighter ... He flushes and shuts the hell up ..._

_... "Go back to sleep, Agent Washington." ..._

_... Fuck, that voice sounds familiar ..._

_#_

_... Eyes too heavy to open ... Brain too heavy to think ... Couldn't move even if he wanted to ..._

_... Ropes ... Everywhere, there's rope ... across his chest ... woven through his legs ... around his--_

_"Where are the simulation troopers?" ... That voice again ... deep and rumbling and distorted ..._

_Wash curls in on him self ... something catches around his neck ... chokes him before he flinches back upright.  Noose ... there's a noose tied around his neck ... He shivers ... stomach tightening ... pulse fluttering ..._

_...Something wet and tacky holds his tongue down ... holds his mouth open ... He tries grunting ... pain rewards him, sharp and sudden as lightning..._

_"Where are the simulation troopers?"_

_Wash grunts through the gag ..._ Like I'd tell if I knew _..._

_... A hand pressed against his groin ... Blood rushes south ... But not enough ..._

_... A considering hum ... footsteps dropping back from him ... voices whispering ... "The dosage is off.  I need him pliant, not comatose."  "Sir, we only have so many resources.  Especially with the recent raids--" "I pay you for solutions, not excuses." ... Whatever that means ..._

_... Wash tastes something bitter and chalky and eerily familiar ... Drugs ... Gotta be drugs ... Only thing that explains this dopy haze ... Someone's forcefeeding him drugs ... Wash growls ... Probably sounds pretty pathetic ..._

_....Gag shoved back in his mouth ... When did it come off?_

_... Something firm cups his cheek ... strokes his split lip ... hums contentedly ... "Go back to sleep."_

_... That voice, though ... It almost sounds like Locus ..._

_#_

_... Warm all over ... Too hot inside his skin ... Too tense to even twitch ... And fuck, what Wash wouldn't give to have a hand free ..._

_... Dick throbbing ... Balls aching ... Asshole clenching around something that's not even there ... He remembers hands all over him, but never where he needs them most ... Ain't that a bitch?_

_#_

Wash jerks into consciousness, into this shitty, rancid-smelling cell, into the abrupt realization that he is fucked.  Absolutely fucked.  Because he wakes up with his cheek smashed into concrete, rocking his hips down against the floor and moaning like he's a cat in heat.  Thank God his under armor still clings to his sweat-drenched skin,  providing some meager protection for his most sensitive places.  _Jesus Christ, Thank God the reds and blues aren't here.  I'd never live this down._

Moving cautiously, Wash shuffles onto his side and then around onto his back.  Ropes tug against his chest, chafing unsettlingly close to his nipples.  His fingertips are going numb fast.  He bodyweight can't be helping his circulation.  Exhaling, Wash crunches upright, ropes sliding every which way and leaving him panting.  Fuck, stupid ropes.  Yes, Wash has a _thing_ about ropes, has known it since he'd gotten dragged into demonstrating ties and takedowns during basic, has very very carefully kept it on the down low.  And now he's behind enemy lines, captured, and face to face with his favorite kink and no way to relieve the tension. 

Yep, it's officially.  Wash is fucked.  Totally, one hundred and ninety eight percent fucked.  But at least he's conscious.  If he's awake he can escape.

Wash twists his wrists every which way, seeking out some pivotal weak point in the tie; all he gets for his trouble is a throbbing erection.  Actually throbbing.  If Wash peers through the darkness, he can see his dick twitching through his under armor, threatening to pop a damn seam.  _As if today couldn't get any worse._

Dropping back against the wall, Wash stews for the better part of an hour, intermittently straining against the bonds and willing away his arousal.  _Next person that comes at me, I'm going for the eyes._ But when the door slides open and a familiar broad silhouette fills up the doorway, Wash gulps around his gag, praying he doesn't actually vomit.

Locus.  It's Locus.  Of course it's goddamn Locus, the goddamn mercenary with a goddamn creepy fixation on him.  If Wash weren't convinced it would shift the ropes too much, he'd sigh and hang his head.  Instead he can only stare.

Crossing the room in quick, even strides, Locus crouches over Wash, his feet just brushing along the outside of Wash's thighs.  Flushing, Wash ducks his head, gets the wind choked out of him, and snaps back to attention. 

"You're awake," Locus says calmly.  "Good."

Locus threads a hand through Wash's hair, tipping his head back so he has to look up at his captor.  Wash shakes his head and pulls away to no avail.  In the end, he can only glower up at Locus, silently cursing.  God, Wash hopes that when he gets out of this he gets a chance to shoot this creepy mother fucker in the head.  Repeatedly.

"Agent Washington, you've proven yourself, once again, disappointing.  Fortunately, my employeer has more uses for you alive than dead.  If you cooperate, perhaps we can find some more hospitable quarters for you.  Now, tell me," Locus tugs the gag out of Wash's mouth in one swift motion, "where are the simulation troopers?"

Wash takes the opportunity to work his jaw, relishing the ability to swallow without the risk of actually gagging.  He draws a heavy breath.  His voice warbles from dis-use.  "Fuck.  You."

Locus exhales, the noise barely loud enough to carry over the power armor's speaker.  His hand clenches in Wash's hair before shoving him back hard enough to wind him and standing up to his full height.  He retrieves a medical canister from his waist pack, shakes two pills into his palm.

Blanching, Wash crawls backwards until his back scrapes against the wall.  "No," he whispers.  No more pills.  Not when he's clear for the first time in-- _Fuck, how long_ have _I been here?_

Holding Wash's jaw open with one hand, Locus says, "You chose this, Washington.  You could have done as I asked and answered my questions."  He shoves the pills down Wash's throat, strokes his throat gently until he swallows.  "This is what disobedience breeds."

Before Locus can replace the gag, Wash throws himself sideways, coughing and willing his stomach to rebel.  For some small piece of his body to listen to him, goddammit.  But no, he can practically feel the haze uncurling in his brain and his cock pulsing hopefully. 

Locus crouches down fully, pulling Wash upright by the shoulders, checking the ropes around his neck and chest.  His fingers move methodically, examining every inch of Wash through the under armor, hesitating at the crease between his thighs and groin.  Wash shakes hard, whispering "no, no, no," on a loop.  He looks up at Locus's faceless helmet, pleading and praying for some small mercy.  Instead, Locus cocks his head to the side and reaches down to cup Wash's balls.

"Stop.  Don't."  Wash squirms away from the touch, but Locus closes in around him, pinning him to the wall like a butterfly on a collector's frame.  Fuck, he never signed up for this.  Not even a little.  Tears welling at the corners of his eyes, Wash bucks his hips.  Whether to throw Locus off or earn himself a little friction, he doesn't know.  He doesn't want to know.  But Locus doesn't budge, adjusts according to Wash's motions, unrelenting.  Wash shakes his head.  "Just stop.  You don't need to do this.  How could you benefit from this?"

Locus hums, swirling his thumb over Wash's cock head, soaking the seat of Wash's under armor with pre-come.  Wash winces, shaking hard. He can't pull free of his bonds.  Can't get away from Locus's insistent pressure.  Can't do anything but lie there and take it, and Wash can't bear the thought of it.  "Stop it, stop it.  Someone!  Anyone!"

And Locus only presses into him harder, forcing Wash closer and closer to the brink.  Wash squeezes his eyes shut.  He can fight this.  He's stronger than his stupid little prick.

Suddenly, a soldier throws open the door and lunges inside, rifle raised and trained on Locus.  "Freeze right there, asshole."

Gaping, Wash's heart flutters.  Someone heard him!  Someone came to help.  Wash sucks in a sharp breath, the oxygen rushing through him, making him giddy.  It's not one of the reds and blues, but it's someone!  A soldier in charcoal and orange. 

Locus's hand stills, but he doesn't turn toward the door, doesn't even acknowledge the infiltrator, just keeps staring at Wash.  Like he's trying to see into his soul and figure out what makes him tick.  Wash flushes but still he grins.  Finally, something has turned to his favor.

And just as suddenly as he appeared, the charcoal and orange armored soldier lowers his weapon, throwing his head back and cackling.  Wash's brow wrinkles.  What the fuck?

"Oh fuck, Locus.  Did you see his face?  Man, do you have any people skills.  Not even one if he's that excited about seeing me again.  Man, that's gotta suck!"

 _Again?_   Wash doesn't understand.  The only people he's ever met wearing orange armor are Grif (and there's no way Grif would go this far to pull a prank on anyone, much less Wash) and--shit, what was that guy's name from the canyon?

"Did you need something?" Locus grits out, shoving the gag back into Wash's mouth, barely angling his head to look at the soldier.

"Conference call with Control in ten.  They wanna do damage control after all this mess those sim troopers cooked up. And you know how he gets when it's just me there monologuing."

Locus lets out a dissatisfied hum and stands abruptly, dropping Wash into a heap against the cell wall.  He turns and marches out the door, muttering "You are a nuisance," to the charcoal and orange soldier as he goes.

The new soldier eyes Wash for a few seconds before turning and following after Locus.  "Right back at you, partner."

Even after the door slides shut, Wash doesn't move from his slumped little pile.  His stares wide eyed at the door, his brain spinning fast to fight off the imminent haze.  Felix.  The charcoal and orange scout from the crash site.  The New Republic's mercenary.  Felix. 

Why the fuck is he here with Locus?

But before Wash can consider any more, his world goes dark once more.

#

_... Something warm and wet against his lips ... poking around the gag ... Wash presses his tongue against it ... Wet and smooth and too-little-not-enough ... water ... Wash sucks as best he can... chases after as it draws away ..._

_... A cutting chuckle ... "Eager, aren't you?" ... Steady pressure on his arms ... kneading, soothing ... but it takes away the already dampened sensation of the ropes ... Wash whines ..._

_"Huh... you really like the ropes."_

_... Something plastic presses to Wash's lips ... water ... droplets down his chin ... cool flooding his stomach, his veins ..._

_... A hand through his hair, just the wrong side of rough ... "Yeah, I can work with this.  Not my first choice, but it's been a while since I had a slut around. Much less a rope slut."_

_"Felix!"_

_"'We!' Since_ we _had a rope slut around." ... A grumble_ _... "Wonder if he's likes knives, t-- Ow, fuck, what was that for?" ... "Control wants him undamaged." ... "Then they should've been smarter than to leave him around us."_

_... Wash shudders and drifts away ..._

_#_

Wash hasn't been this worked up since he was a teenager.  When he comes to again, he's hard enough to shatter concrete.  Hard enough to bend steal.  Hard enough the crotch of his under armor threatens to pop at the wrong move. He should be concerned about this, right?  Yes, his arousal has come and gone, but it can't be healthy for an erection to last... shit, he has no idea how long he's been tied up in this dark little cell.  He's hungry and thirsty and sore in places he doesn't want to think about. 

In all seriousness, whatever Locus keeps dosing him with his playing havoc with his libido.  He balls ache like they've swollen to the size of grapefruits inside his perfectly average sized ball sack.  His jaw aches from clenching around his spit-soaked cloth gag.  And his ass aches for something, anything to just split him open, and fuck, Wash is not prepared to think about that.  Not even a little.  He enlisted in the UNSC to fight aliens, not to get captured by a pair of psychotic mercenaries who have who knew what kind of plans. 

Add on these would-be delightful ropes, and this whole situation is something out of a wet-dream gone awry.  But at least you can wake up from a dream.

The cell door slides open, breaking Wash from his thoughts.  A startlingly slight man carrying a meal tray enters, a muscle tank clinging to his work-honed chest, a pair of standard issue UNSC sweat pants hanging from his hips.  Despite his pointed nose and chin, there's nothing particularly noteworthy about the newcomer.  Still, Wash shrinks back against the wall, eyes trailing the man as he crosses the room and sets the tray down beside Wash before sitting on the cold hard floor.  The man groans as he crosses his legs and drags a juice pouch off the tray.  Punches the straw through the vacuum sealed pouch.  Takes a sip, makes a face, then crawls almost into Wash's lap.  Wash flinches, pressing his back as far into the wall as he can manage, but the strangers isn't deterred in the slightest.  He eases the gag out of Wash's mouth and presses the straw to his lips.

Wash freezes.  This feels... eerily familiar... But he hasn't done this before, right?  He's never seen this guy before, but Wash still wishes he could push the guy out of his space.  For fuck's sake, he's tied up; can't he at least get a little bit of personal space.

Cocking his head to the side, the man draws the juice pouch away, chuckling softly.  "Can't say I blame you."  He takes another sip and shudders, his mouth pulling into a grimace. "Grape juice is the worst."

Felix.  That's Felix's voice.  What the hell?  Wash flinches when Felix sets the juice pouch aside and reaches toward Wash once more.  Felix pauses a few inches away from Wash's skin, palm open and relaxed.  He even grins, one corner of his mouth pulling higher than the other, but it does little to placate Wash.  "Easy there, Washy.  I don't bite.  Well, I mean, that's a lie, but last fight I took a fist to the face, and I'm not into pain." 

Without another word, Felix closes the distance, rubbing circles across Wash's cheek.  Soothing where the gag cut into his cheeks.  Wash jerks as pain blossoms and withers away in short order. For a moment, Wash's shoulders slump forward, pressing into the simple comfort before his brain screams at him, _WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IDIOT?!?_

Fuck, what is he doing?  The next second, Wash lurches, turning his neck and snapping at Felix's outstretched hand.  Unfortunately, Felix's reflexes are sharper than Wash anticipated.  Wash bares his teeth, drawing in his shoulders, already assessing where to aim his next hit. 

And Felix, instead of jumping back to put space between himself and the lunatic tied down with his back to the wall and nowhere to go but forward, Felix laughs.  "Holy shit!" He marvels at his unmarred hand, as pleased with himself as he is surprised at Wash.  "Wow, you Freelancers never stop kicking, do you?  I like it!"  Felix's awe-struck grin doesn't fade as he reaches behind his back and unshealthes a combat knife.  He muscles himself all the way onto Wash's lap, dragging Wash's head back by his scalp and nudges the knife up under his chin, the cold steel brushing his jugular.  "That being said, behave, or I'll make you behave."  Felix lets the knife bite into Wash's skin, pressure just shy of skin-piercing.  "And trust me, you won't like being made to behave.  So please, try again."

He's being baited.  Wash can read the glimmer in Felix's eyes clear as day, but for the first time in what feels like days, he has one weapon at his disposal, and that's so much freedom Wash barely knows what to do with himself.  Wash bares his teeth and growls.

Felix chuckles and leans close enough his breath warms Wash's cheeks.  "I'm just gagging for the chance to send you back to Tucker piece by piece."

And just like that, the fight flies out of him.  Wash cowers, acutely aware of the blade tucked under his chin, nothing between him and death but the whim and will of a mercenary.  Not just any mercenary, one who's clearly taking joy in playing with him.  Shuddering, Wash closes his mouth, holds his head high, and prays he’ll do anything to keep that from happening.  The reds and blues don't deserve that.

"Playing it safe, huh?  Lame." Smirking, Felix takes a medical canister from his pocket and pulls out another little white pill.  He holds it out, flat against his palm, and eyes Wash.  "Take your medicine, Wash."  But he makes no move to shove it down Wash's throat, just holds it out, well within Wash's range of motion.

Flushing and cursing internally with every ounce of spite, Wash bends his neck cautiously.  When Felix adjusts his grip on the knife and lets it move with the motions, Wash leans forward, picks up the bitter pill with his tongue, and grimaces when Felix cackles. 

Before everything goes fuzzy again, Wash hears Felix comment, "Fuck, it's like Christmas and St. Paddy's Day came early."  Then the room fades away, and Wash is left floating ... floating and ... _floating ..._

_... Something hot and slick against his neck ... something not the knife ... slithers up his skin ... curls around his earlobe ... threats of pain ... threats of nothing ... Which is worse?_

_... A whine ... who's making that sad little noise? ... Wash ... he's making those noises ... every pathetic whimper ...  every broken moan ..._

_Sharp pain against his throat ... He shifts away ... the web of ropes tug against him ... Wash sinks into the sensation ... Fuck why can't he always feel this good?_

_Humming from somewhere far away, somewhere beyond him ... the knife slides against him ... Cold gnaws at his collarbones ... then teeth ... Felix chuckles against the hollow of his throat ... "Guess I lied."_

_... Something rips ... cold sinks into his skin ... Wash strains forward ... ropes hold him in place ... brain throbs ... chills up and down his spine ... a dull, fading pain ... warmth chases it away ... but only for a moment ... then the cold creeps back ..._

_... "C'mon, you have your chance to play.  Don't blame me if you weren't smart enough to think up something entertaining to do with him." ..._

Something stings when Wash slides back into consciousness.  Fuck, what did that pill do to him?  He was out of it in seconds and back already, only it feels like ants are crawling under his skin and his flesh feels scorched.  At least Felix isn't sitting in his lap anymore.  Instead, he's crouched over Wash, knife moving down Wash's chest, slicing through his under armor.  It hangs off Wash's arms, scraps of reinforced cloth caught under the ropes, the threads tickling and teasing.  Wash bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut.  _Fuck.  Not this.  Please, anything but this._

Felix leans back, probably admiring his handiwork, the fuck.  "Hmmm, looks like Wash is getting distracted, don't you think, Lo?"

Wash flinches, eyes flying open.  There leaning against the cell door is Locus, still in his armor.  No, not full armor.  Despite the dimness, Wash's gaze draws to Locus's groin, currently absent one codpiece as the mercenary palms himself through his under armor, slow and steady.  Wash ducks his head, but just as he moves, Felix slides in close, pressing his knife against Wash's groin. Not an inch of leeway.  Wash's stomach squirms and Felix mutters, "Eyes front and center soldier.  Don't make me tell you twice."

 _Fuck!_   But with no other options, no alternatives, Wash gulps hard and forces his eyes back to Locus.  Without so much as a word of affirmation or a grunt of approval, Locus gropes himself more firmly, his gloved fingers spreading over his erection and moving at a mechanical pace.  Fuck, what wouldn't Wash give for the freedom to do the same? 

Want wells a the back of his throat, a needy whine Wash refuses to let himself voice.  Dammit, he may be a prisoner, may be suffering from the worst case of blue balls of all time, but fuck, he still has his dignity.  And yes, he can guess what the mercs want.  All the touching, all the pills, all the threats.  They want him to break.  They want him docile and pliant so they can use him.  As another weapon, or worse.  Wash shivers; he's not even sure what could make this worse.  No, he can't allow that.  He can't let himself be broken.  He has to survive this.  For his team.  For himself.  So Wash does the one thing the mercenaries won't be counting on. 

"Please," he whispers.  Eyes wide, he bites his lip to stop himself, but Felix rips open the seat of his under armor, and Wash's hips buck despite him.  But he doesn't look away.  Wash has never been a great liar, so he uses ever trick in his arsenal and lets himself feel.  "Please, I'll do anything, anything you want ju--"

Felix interrupts him to shove a pill down his throat and knot the gag around his head once more.  Wash whines, jerking against his bonds and hissing as the ropes shift and dig into his skin for the first time.  Felix draws back, rolling up onto his feet before pressing his boot against Wash's groin.  Moaning, Wash bucks forward into the pressure, unable to stop himself.  But Felix pulls away after a few unsatisfying thrusts and smirks down at Wash.  "Not yet.  We don't wanna hear you beg until you're good and ready.  And you've still got a ways to go." 

Felix ruffles Wash's hair before gathering the now empty tray in his hands and tugging Locus after him.  Wash whines as the door closes behind them.  He ruts into the empty air for a few seconds, frustrated tears dotting his cheeks. 

When he gets out of this, Wash may just break down and get himself some goddamn therapy.

#

_... Pleasure licking up his spine ... warm hands tugging the ropes tighter ... someone whimpering ... No, not someone ... Wash ..._

Fuck, not again.

_... A hand threads through his hair ... massages his scalp ... yanks his head back ... "Agent Washington, what would they think of you now?"_

_"Give it a rest, Locus.  Wash's off in dream land.  Even if he weren't gagged, he wouldn't answer."_

_... Wash groans ..._

_#_

_... Something solid pressing between his ass cheeks ... slickness trailing over his hole ... harsh breath in his throat ..._

_"Shhh.  Easy Washy.  Just relax and let it in."_

_"Felix."_

_"Let Locus have a little fun."_

_... Pressure ... so much pressure ... What the hell did they ... do to him ..._

_... His weight settles ... the pressure increases ... like a snake trying to rip free from a sack ... and Wash is the sack ... Shivering ... Whines ... What is this thing ..._

_"Good.  Relax, Agent Washington.  It will all be over soon."_

_..._ Easy for you to say ... You don't have a monster sized plug up your ass _..._

_... BZZZZZZZZ ... Hips bucking ... but the bliss twists inside him ... He can't get away.  Can't escape.  The vibrations radiate through his spine. Soaks his brain in too many endorphins.  Which way is up?  Why is this happening?  Why are his hands fisted and his jaw clenched and his legs straining against his bonds?_

_"Nuh uh, Washy." Harsh hands pin his hips to the wall.  "Be a good boy, and take it."_

_And despite the pressure and the pleasure and the pain, Wash grits his teeth and breathes through his nose and fights.  He's not gonna break.  He's not ... he's not ..._

_#_

_... It's gone ... the too big too intense sensation ... gone as suddenly as it was there ... Wash whimpers ... curls in on himself ..._ Please, no more _..._

_The gag gets tugged out of his mouth ... something bitter lands on his tongue ... exhaustion too great to fight anymore ..._

_... He swallows ..._

_... "Good boy." ..._

_..._ Please _..._

_#_

"Look at you, Wash," Felix whispers in his ear.  "You're just a mess."

If Wash had his mouth, he'd probably snap back that yes, he is a mess because apparently Felix and Locus never learned how to play nicely.  But the words turns his cheeks red and makes Wash shudder and sink down far enough on Locus's cock, he nearly gags.

"I mean, can you even imagine what they'd think of you if they saw you like this?" To punctuate his question, Felix reaches down and tugs had on Wash's balls.  His flushed, full, hypersensitive balls that Felix took the pleasure of typing off from his body, drawing them out like two rosy targets ripe for assault.  Wash doesn't try to stop his moan.  He gave up trying to keep quiet days ago.  Instead, he pulls back just enough Locus's next thrust doesn't make him gag. 

Of course, twitching backward means pressing his naked back against Felix who happily takes the opportunity to pull Wash flush against him and tweak Wash's nipples.  Wash bucks forward, whining, and the cycle begins all over.  "Look at you.  The big bad Freelancer turned out to be an eager slut, and all it took was some rope and a little bit of time."

Honestly, if the reds and blues saw him like this, he'd never live it down.  Because he doesn't look like a mess.  Sure his hair's probably long enough to be put in a ponytail and his facial hair is patchy and long because the last time Felix tried to shave him, he used that damn combat knife, and Wash could probably use a shower or twenty.  But more than that, he's littered head to toe in bite marks, rope burns, and scratches, he's got who knows how many feet of rope binding his limbs into place, and he's been leaking a steady stream of pre-come for who the fuck knows how long.  So no, Wash doesn't look like a mess; he looks like a whore, and a cheap, used up one at that.

Above him, Locus grunts, "Quiet, Felix."

"Not gonna happen.  Not even a little.  After all those years playing the merc with a heart of gold, you better believe I'm gonna enjoy myself."

Even though Locus is still wearing his helmet and most of his armor, Wash can feel the glower Locus aims at Felix.  But instead of arguing his point, Locus grabs Wash's hair and fucks hard into his throat.  Trapped between them, Wash just lets himself go limp, tries to relax his throat, and focuses on breathing through his nose.  _Just get through it.  Just hold it together until they're gone._

Felix clearly has other plans.  His hands trail down Wash's chest, cupping around his dick and teasing along the ropes around the base.  Wash grinds into the meager pressure, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

"Fuck, Wash, you take cock like a pro.  That might just be the best thing about you.  Sure, you'd hem and haw about not wanting it, but put you between a rock and a hard place, and you just go to town.  Seriously, whoever trained you deserves a gold medal."

Wash squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out memories of old friends and lovers, people who cared about him and loved him.  No, they don't belong here.  What he had with them was nothing like this, and he won't let Felix and Locus take those memories away from him.  Those happier times.

Felix hums.  "Still playing the tough guy, huh?  Alright, Washy, let's see if we can fuck away some of that stress."  His hands sweep up over Wash's hips, pulling apart his ass cheeks.  Cool air kisses his hole, chilling the residual lube slicking his skin.  Wash groans, trying to pull back from Locus, push away from Felix, but he can't move, can't think, can only feel.  "There we are," Felix says as he ruts against the small of Wash's back, hard and hot and insistent.  "That's where you feel empty, isn't it?"

Locus pulls Wash forward, blocking his airway and crushing his nose into Locus's under armor.  He smells like musk and machine oil, and though Wash flinches and struggles, his stupid cock bobs eagerly.  Wash shudders. Fuck, he really is a slut.

Just before the corners of his vision turn dark, Locus drags Wash off his cock and forces him to turn his head.  Felix licks a stripe up the curve of his throat and bites hard enough to draw blood.  Wash can't help himself; eyes squeezes shut, he moans out a small, pathetic, "Please."

The mercenaries freeze.  Wash shivers, words filling up his throat, but the last time he spoke out of turn he got gagged and drugged and left for who knows how long.  Head tucked into his chest, Wash waits, forcing himself not to shake.  A tender hand threads through his hair, stroking it out of his face.  Wash opens his eyes and finds Locus crouched in front of him.  "Beg."

Wash flushes, still holding back.  Felix chuckles against his skin and continues.  "Go ahead, Washy.  Tell us what you want.  Be a good little whore, and beg for it."

Tears blur Wash's vision.  He looks down at the space between his naked, restrained thighs and shivers.  "Please." He gulps to steady his ragged voice; it doesn't help.  "Please, I'll do whatever you want.  Anything.  Just let me cum.  Please.  Please."

"Well fuck," Felix says jovially, raking his teeth down Wash's neck.  Wash can hear the grin in his voice; it makes Wash's guts curdle, fear spoiling the want but not enough to discourage him.  "Look at that, Locus.  It _is_ possible to get him talking.  You owe me a grenade launcher and a new X-Box."

Locus grumbles menacingly.  Even though Wash knows it's not aimed at him, he can't help his flinch.  Can't help his arms trembling.  Can't help the tears brimming in his eye lashes.  He's held on as long as he can; now that the levee's broken, there's no stopping the flood.  "Fuck, I'm sorry.  I just... I can't think straight... I can't...."  He sucks in a breath when two distinct pairs of hands cup his cheeks and chin, drawing his gaze upward once more.  "Please.  Anything you want.  Anything."

"Anything, Agent Washington?" Wash can't see his face, but he just knows Locus is leering down at him, wallowing in his smug superiority. 

Before Wash can nod, Felix pipes up.  "So you'd carve Simmons into tiny pieces and feed him to Grif?"

Wash jolts, his eyes going wide.

"Or choke the life out of Private Donut and the Sargent?" Locus adds.

_...what?_

"Kick Caboose through a pelican's turbine?  Tie down Tucker, drug him, and leave him in a dark little room til he begs too?"

Wash squeezes his eyes closed, curls in on himself, and shakes his head hard. Pain skitters through him, horror quick at its heels.  "Stop it," he whispers.

"Aww, but Washy," Felix says, turning Wash to tuck his face into the mercenary's neck.  "You said anything.  You begged."

Locus crouches down over him, hands insistent as they work over Wash's bound cock, his inflamed balls, all the way back to his twitching hole.  At the slightest pressure, Wash moans loud enough to fill the room.  Just a quickly, he bites his lip hard enough he tastes blood.   "You shouldn't fight this, Washington," Locus says, something close to kindness soaking through his voice.  "Accept your fate, and this will all be over."

His head whips back and forth, hiccupping sobs as he struggles for the last dregs of control.  "I don't want this.  Please."

"Don't worry. You wll."

Wash's hips buck.  Locus curls his hand tighter around Wash's cock.  Felix slides a pair of fingers along Wash's rim.  _I can't do this.  I can't..._ But he has to, so Wash bites his lip bloody and shudders and blacks out before he can come.

#

_..."You pushed him too far," a heavy voice rumbles.  "He wasn't ready." ..._

_... A quick, sharp response. "The longer we coddle him, the harder he'll be to break." ..._

_... Something bitter on his tongue ... Wash swallows obediently ... peers at the silhouette over him ... Ropes creep across his skin ... every nerve burns ... He's never felt something like it before ..._

_... A hand through his hair ... gentle pressure ... "Please," Wash gasps, but the word tastes like ash._

_... "Shhh," his captor whispers as he pushes a hard rubber gag into Wash's mouth.  "Go back to sleep."_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come scream with me on Tumblr (birdsbeesandlemonadetrees.tumblr.com). If there's sufficient interest, I'd be open to continuing this story.  
> Comments and concrit welcome :)


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